Sleeping on an overnight train is an unexpectedly comfortable experience. Jim and I each have a comfortable bunk and the train rocks us to sleep. Nine hours later, we wake up and the grey morning light reveals a snow covered landscape of small pine and birch trees and isolated farm houses. We still have three hours until the train reaches its northern terminus, so we head to the cafe car for breakfast. There, over coffee and porridge with berries, we meet a few of our Cross Nordics compatriots, including Jussi and Tukka, Finns with a hilariously dry sense of humor (explaining why Finns are consistently rated the happiest people on earth, Jossi explains it is because reality frequently surpasses their very simple and low expectations). After the train arrives at remote and snowy Kemojärvi, a charter bus takes us on to Salla, where we meet the rest of the group for an event briefing and lunch at a hotel that may have peaked in 1970, if it had a peak. But the serious old Finnish women in the kitchen put out a delicious spread: fish cakes, beef soup, pickles and salad, with a local delicacy called Vispipuuro (lingonberries cooked with semolina topped with lingonberry suryp) for dessert.

This is an international group made up of many Finns, a number of Germans and Americans, plus a compliment of Swedes, Norwegians, French, Canadians, Swiss and Danes. Some are veterans of this event and other long distance ski tours, for others this is a new experience. The vibe is definitely more friendly than competitive.

After lunch and orientation, we change and board the bus from Salla for the first ski stage, a short 23 km warm up.

And as promised, we get dropped off right at the Russian border. A laminated sign like you might see at a convenience store is taped to the border fence and says “closed.”

Getting out on skis feels great after two days of travel. We follow snowmobile tracks through small forests and across frozen wetlands. The group thins out immediately and for much of the afternoon Jim and ski on our own. I slow him down but he is kind about it. 

We are fortunately not staying where we had lunch, but at a lodge on a frozen river that caters to cross country skiers, snowmobileers and people who (inexplicably) ice fish. Dinner is delicious and includes fresh and ripe avocado, which raises all sorts of questions about global supply chains. We sleep well.

Our second day begins with porridge with berries and yoghurt and eggs and fresh bread. It’s remarkable how hungry I am. Today the distance ramps up and the route begins on a road through a small village and onto a series of long frozen lakes interspersed with pine and birch forests and an occasional reindeer gate, which we awkwardly climb over in our ski boots. The sky feels vast here and seems to contain every shade of blue imaginable.

The lunch feed station is “in nature” as our guide describes, and it is deluxe. Someone has sledded in hot split pea soup (which our guide calls a Finnish Michelin grade meal), bread, cheese and coffee and made a fire with reindeer pelts to sit on. Jim curls up for a quick siesta.

On we go, double polling for hours across the flat landscape. It’s hard work but we make good time and arrive at our lodge by early afternoon. Today’s distance of 47 km was as far as I skied in any single training session. Tomorrow and the next day we ramp up to 70 km. It’s about to get serious.